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ZERO: Prologue
Darkness fell like stardust, soft like snow and heavy like night's breath.
He trembled as the wind brushed frosty fingers across the nape of his neck, hissing sinister promises into his ear, intrusive and too intimate. He whirled around in wide-eyed alarm as the shadows behind him crept closer, elusive figures reaching out to envelop him in a lover's embrace that would shatter his body into a million black-edged porcelain pieces.
The unfamiliarity of the land scared him, and his eyes were frantic, searching in vain for something that wasn't sand or stone or shadow. His mind was stretched too thin, and he longed for the warmth and security of home, for his World and for friends who were nowhere to be seen.
He was alone. The silence built up to a climax and without warning, a voice came crashing down on him, sound accompanied by flashing images of a black inferno raging against a white plane. He blinked furiously and staggered back.
"What do we have here?"
The question was punctuated by flames of wild, dancing red that erupted from the ground before him. His knees gave way as an entity of fire and death—yes, death, he was sure—emerged, robed in charcoal grey and topped with flickering blue. It towered above his sprawled form, the very personification of blazing destruction.
"Lost, are we?"
He found speech impossible, so he nodded timidly, subconsciously backing away from the embers licking at his feet.
"Marvelous." A wicked smile that he knew he would never forget. "The name's Hades, God of the Underworld, Lord of the Dead, Sovereign of Below, yadda yadda. All that jazz. But none of that's important to you, is it?"
He swallowed hard, surprised and unsure of how to respond.
"That's okay. I can help you, kid."
A hand was extended, presumably in a gesture of friendship, or, alternatively, it might incinerate him on contact.
"Come on, pup. I don't burn, you know. Don't let my hair deceive you; it's really just a fashion statement."
"Oh," he said quietly when nothing else came to mind.
He tentatively touched his fingers to the proffered palm and was abruptly overcome by an unnatural chill. He immediately tried to withdraw, but a clammy hand had already wrapped around his wrist and hauled him to his now cold-numbed feet.
"You'll get used to it."
He closed his eyes and shook his head, refusing to acknowledge anything other than the pounding of his own heart.
He felt a hand on his cheek suddenly and he gasped, frozen and unable to do anything but stare up at yellow eyes that held promises of darkness and damnation.
"What is your name, child?" All airiness was gone, replaced by a menacing timbre that shook his entire body. He couldn't speak.
Hades tsk'ed and straightened.
"I'm really not in the mood for dilly-dallying. I've got places to be, people to damn. So, when I ask you a question—"
He screamed. A wave of intensifying pain engulfed him and he forgot where-when-who-what-how. Broken like glass, scattered and distorted and abandoned. Burning, drowning, bleeding; nonexistent fire and ice, and imaginary knives that sliced and sliced and sliced.
"—I expect you to answer."
The world exploded in shades of black and hues of red, his vision twisted and tampered with until every appearance lied to him. He heard the clashing of swords, the battle cries of warriors past, and the desperate wails of the eternally lost. The sounds of Olympic Coliseum rang in his head, impossibly loud and overwhelming.
"Ready to try again, pup?"
He was on his hands and knees, eyes wide and staring at the ground that was slowly being colored by the vermillion that dripped from between parted lips. His breathing was ragged and his throat raw.
"Now, what is your name?"
"Cloud," he whispered. "It's Cloud. Cloudcloudcloudcloudcloud."
Serrated teeth were displayed in a victorious grin. "Very good. Now, Cloud, where are you from?"
"From—I'm from—I—" He paused, his memory strewn haphazardly about his rapidly fading consciousness.
"Again?" A sigh.
He couldn't breathe suddenly. He clamped his hands to his mouth and coughed violently, his throat blistering further. More blood. It seeped through his fingers and fell thickly into the growing puddle at his knees.
"From?"
"Hollow—" He choked. "Hollow Bas—Hollow Bastion. Hollow Bastion."
"Are you? I suppose Maleficent's already established headquarters there. Which is why you're here, I guess. That's tough, kid." Quiet as plans were mentally drawn up and considered. Then: "But, like I said, I can help you."
He looked up and his blue eyes were pleading, desperate.
Hades knelt down and placed a hand on his shoulder. This time, it was warm and reassuring, as if the torment that had just transpired seconds before had not transpired at all. "What is it that you're looking for, Cloud?"
His world dimmed drastically and he felt compelled to reply, to bare his soul to the descending darkness.
"I want—I want to see my friends again. I want to see Squall and Aerith and Yuffie and Cid."
An encouraging smile. "And?"
"And." He shut his eyes. "And I want to go home. With them."
"Why?"
"Because—because it's too dark here without them."
Hades rose, satisfied. "Well, we'll have to remedy that. Stand, boy."
He did as he was told, quaking with exhaustion and apprehension.
"What will you give to be reunited with your friends, Cloud?"
"Anything," he said without hesitation. He would give anything for them, for the only family he's ever had; he knew nothing else.
A predatory smirk. "Exactly what I wanted to hear." Hades looked down on him. "But you are too weak. You can't hope to see them again if you can hardly stand on your own two feet, now can you?"
"No," he murmured, defeated.
"Precisely. But don't worry. I can give you the strength you need."
A hand patted him on the head. "However, you'll have to pay a price. You'll have to work for me. Understood, pup?"
He nodded silently.
A gleeful, "Excellent," followed by a swish of robes as Hades moved to stand behind him. "Ready, kid?"
"Yes." He meant for it to sound certain, but it came out strangled and cracked.
Hades took his left hand and made a deep horizontal cut across his palm. The blood ran red, pure and true, flowing stronger with each heartbeat.
Submit.
And he didn't care what happened to him anymore. The darkness surrounded him like it had during his last moments in Hollow Bastion, like it had even before that, when he had fought futilely against an invading evil. He surrendered completely and gave himself in to the shadows that beckoned. All faded to black.
This is the path you have chosen.
And then everything came rushing back. The veil was lifted; his eyesight was keener, his hearing sharper. He could see every sliver of moonlight, hear even the silent murmurings of the godlike statues that stood tall over the Coliseum entrance, crossing their blades and brandishing their shields proudly, for everything, if made with enough love and purpose, had life breathed into it.
And now you must walk it.
Needle-prick sensations assaulted his back and he stumbled forward in shock, twisting his head around to see bone, slick and white, protruding through pale flesh. Twin structures, mirror images of each other, extended from his shoulder blades. Obsidian leather claimed the exposed skeleton, transforming them instantaneously into demonic wings. A distant roar rang in his ears, primal and deep; adrenaline ran through him.
It is sealed with blood.
Then, there was peace.
His eyelids fluttered closed as he spread his new wings slowly, reveling in the absolute power he felt coursing through him from wingtip to wingtip.
"Better?"
He turned, eyes a storm of crimson-black. "Yes," and his voice was solid, firm, much unlike the stuttering thirteen-year-old in his place moments before.
"Of course. It is my own work." A menacing step closer. "Now, some things to take care of."
A languid gesture and chaos broke out once more. Fire charred the walls and fed the dying blazes of the Coliseum torches as they flared hungrily. Hades's hand shot out to grasp his right wing, pulling him near. Flickering shadows on the walls, cast by the heated glow, reflected every movement on a surreal and exaggerated plane.
"This is to make sure that you don't fly away, Cloudie-boy." A vicious wrench and one wing was ripped from his body, tissue tearing and ligaments snapping.
He collapsed as Hades released him, pain blotting out all else.
"Do not forget that you belong to me now, pup. You are to do my bidding and maybe I'll get around to finding those friends of yours, eh?"
He said nothing, in too much shock to protest, confidence gone and replaced once again by vulnerability.
"Good. Very good. I'm glad we agree." A rustle of robes and then: nothing.
He lay still for an agonizingly long time before forcing himself into a sitting position, his body threatening to mutiny against him. He touched the blood flowing from his wound and was unsurprised when his fingers were stained black instead of red.
He drew his legs close to him, put his head on his knees, and closed his glazed, blue-again eyes. He dreamt of water-rises and a Library, of grand staircases and hidden hallways, of Squall and Aerith, Yuffie and Cid, and of blackness seeping through everything like spilt ink on painted canvas.
08.01.06